Heart Break for Three
by Pceluvmusicart
Summary: A closer look at the situations between Artie, Brittany and Santana. Slight spoilers for 2x19 Rumors.  Artie thinks over what he's said to Brittany. Brittany receives a text she wishes she hadn't. Title based off Brittany's show Fondue for Two. ONESHOT


So between the whole Brittany, Artie and Santana thing and Sam being homeless; Glee basically reduced me to a puddle of tears. I have a lot of emotions, ok? In any case this is my first work so I am accepting (requesting) criticism. That's _criticism_ not _Let's go flame the author time_, got it? This fic is what you can call my mind over analyzing situations in a TV drama. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave feedback.

~PC

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><p>Artie wheeled himself down the hall sullenly. He promised himself he'd never do this. He wanted things to be different after the whole Tina mess. <em>He<em> wanted to be different. That suddenly seemed possible when he found himself with Brittany. It was something he'd never understand. How someone like _her_ would ever be seen with _him._ Then she wanted to date him? Despite the odds they did make quite the couple. Artie wasn't into her only for her looks. She wasn't arm candy or a possession. She was sweet, funny and saw the real him; or at least who he'd always wanted to be. She'd never try to be someone else because she felt bad for him. She didn't "lower herself" or pretend to be something she wasn't like Tina had. Artie tried to do the same for her. He saw Brittany as a person. He never made fun of the fact she wasn't intelligent. That she was slow to catch on; completely oblivious at times. Their relationship worked because neither one of them judged the other. They were the only two that without question always accepted the other.

Then _she _came into the picture. The two had always been close friends; he remembered even commenting on how well they got along. Now he was starting to think they got along a little _too _well.

Santana was lying to Brittany. He tried to warn her. Artie tried to point out how she was slowly driving them apart. They fought. Brittany trusted her friend and could never imagine her best friend and someone she could possibly spend a future with doing all the horrible things Artie was accusing.

She just couldn't understand. Sweet and innocent as she was, she didn't seem to grasp the idea that Santana was manipulating her. Whether she really loved Brittany or not he couldn't say; but he'd seen enough to know how she was. Used people, toyed with their emotions, everyone and everything was dispensable to her. She was going to destroy both of them and move on like nothing ever happened. Frustrated and at his boiling point he couldn't help but yell at her.

_"Brittany why are you so stupid?"_

Hurt, pained, Brittany looked completely devastated. He'd never called her that before; never judged her. Artie was the patient and understanding one. Unlike everyone else he saw past the fact that she did and said idiotic things. Saw past them, and he didn't care either. Then he did exactly what he was trying to prevent. He made her cry and broke her heart. Watching her run away, run to Santana who had expected it from the beginning, Artie couldn't help but feel pretty stupid himself.

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><p>Brittany looked down at her phone. Two words, short sweet and to the point; typical Santana.<p>

_I can't_.

She wasn't coming. They were supposed to go to prom together; they weren't. Santana had told her that she loved her, twice. Like everything else, she lied. She was going to hide behind David, pretend that things were going to be ok. Dangle their relationship in front of her. It was a clear enough message. _You rejected me. This is what it feels like. Watch me be with someone else. I hope it tears you apart the same way you tore me apart._

She closed her phone unable to stare at the message any longer. Artie was right. Santana tossed her to the side again, and now she was alone. Brittany wondered if Santana would ever love her more than the reputation she was so afraid of losing.


End file.
